


beginning to hope

by babybel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Getting Back Together, here's some of the wlw ben/polly content i've been promising!! finally!, i just think the idea of ben and polly as a butch femme couple in their 50s is cute ok.., set wayyy after their adventures with the doctor.. it's 1999.., tw for alcoholism mention (really small but still), tw for reference to homophobic family members/period typical attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybel/pseuds/babybel
Summary: Ben stood up when Polly came to the table, and it seemed like she was going to say something, but she just looked up at Polly.And Polly didn’t even register it, not really, because it was all she could do to just stare back. She shouldn’t have come, said a voice in her head, while another asked, is thirty years apart too long a time to try to fix?-30 years after the Doctor, after their break up, after everything, Polly calls Ben after a nightmare and Ben suggests they meet up somewhere and talk it over.
Relationships: Ben Jackson/Polly Wright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	beginning to hope

**Author's Note:**

> because im super sexy yeah ben uses she/her but her name is still ben cos she's a butch legend
> 
> gift for gigi @unitisgayculture but she doesn't have an ao3 to tag 😔

_A series of events in consecutive order, as typed from the desk of Polly Rankin, because I have worked too long as a secretary and now the easiest way for me to process things is by making a list:_

  * _Had a nightmare about making July 12 up in my head. Isn’t that weird how an entire year happened and only a few hours really passed? It was all July 12. Anyway, nightmare._


  * _Called B because who else is there to call?? No one else gets it, we’re the only people on Earth who both saw all those same things. Went through phone book until I found her._


  * _Just to be clear - haven’t called B since I believe ‘72. Only called her a few times after break up - only when things got to be too much + had to talk about July 12. That’s what we call that year, the year with the Doctor. Called._


  * _B said maybe we should just meet up and talk about it all. Might be good to think about it + process it with the lens of “30 years later”._


  * _Said yes, gave her a time + place._


  * _That time is in 20 minutes and I don’t know what to do._



Polly took her hands off the keyboard and checked the time again. She really had to leave now or she’d be late. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she’d be sick. 

She’d been torn between trying to make herself look utterly different from when she’d last seen Ben to prove that she’d grown up, changed, that she’d not needed Ben and she was a totally established person on her own, and trying to look just like she had in the 60s. She’d had a moment of intense fear when she thought Ben wouldn’t be able to recognize her, but that was, as she realized after thinking about it for a bit longer, ridiculous. She was fifty-five, not a completely different person. 

She’d picked a dress that was not one of her best, or one of the ones she wore to events for work. Something casual. Heaven’s sake. It wasn’t like it was a date. 

No, it was just two friends getting together for a coffee who just happened to live together for a while and happened to go out and happened to be in love, but all that was thirty years ago, and Ben had surely stopped thinking about it, although Polly never really had herself. 

She checked her bag - she had her wallet, her compact, her reading glasses - and god’s sake, she was going to be late. 

* * *

When she got to the cafe, Ben was already there, sitting at a little table in the corner. It gave Polly a burst of memories - Ben had always been at dates first, and always waited for her to get there. 

And Ben looked- like home, but Polly’d never say it. That really was the feeling, like she’d come home for the first time in a decades. Ben’s hair had gone grey, still cropped as close to her skull as she could get it without using clippers, and she was wearing such a neat button down tucked into her trousers. She looked sharp. Handsome. 

Ben stood up when Polly came to the table, and it seemed like she was going to say something, but she just looked up at Polly. 

And Polly didn’t even register it, not really, because it was all she could do to just stare back. She shouldn’t have come, said a voice in her head, while another asked, is thirty years apart too long a time to try to fix?

“Hey, Polly,” Ben finally said, her accent not tempered any with age. 

Polly just wanted to hold her, just tuck Ben’s head under her chin and not let her go. She told herself that it would be the same if she saw Jamie or the Doctor now, and that she shouldn’t let it get in her head. “Hi, Ben,” she replied quietly. 

Ben’s mouth worked silently for a moment before she said, “Probably look like bleedin’ idiots just standing here, don’t we,” and reached around the little table to pull Polly’s chair out for her. 

Polly gave a little laugh in agreement, and was grateful to be able to take a few moments to hang her bag and scarf off the back of her chair so she could get her thoughts in order. 

“You all okay?” Ben asked when she was finished. “On the phone you sounded a bit- mad.” 

Had she? That wasn’t good. Polly prepared to stammer through a half-hidden-so-as-not-to-get-too-personal excuse or explanation, but she surprised herself when instead she said, “I _am_ fine, really,” and sort of even meant it. She let out a breath. “Ben, how are you?”

“Good,” Ben answered, and gave a little smile that was so different from her old goofy grin. “Yeah, I’m making ends meet. You know.”

Polly nodded. “That’s good.” 

“Yeah.” Ben, it seemed, wouldn’t - couldn’t? - look away from her, and talking seemed to come as something secondary. “How about you, you're…?”

“Yes, I’m- well, it could be a lot worse, right?” Polly tried to laugh. Although her mental state recently had been less than perfect, she really could have it a whole lot worse. She had a lovely apartment in central London, and droves of darling little nieces and nephews that visited from time to time, and at least she wasn’t married anymore. 

“Right,” Ben agreed. After a moment of silence, she asked, her voice a good deal quieter and more sober, “So, did you- what was it that got you so scared you had to call? I hadn’t heard from you in- what is it, twenty-five years? And then-”

“No, I know, I- I’m horrible at keeping in touch,” Polly apologized, because it was easier than getting into the fact that there’s no easy way to just call up an old ex when you think that if you’ll so much as hear her voice you’ll fall back in love with her. “And I sort of overreacted when I called you, too, it was just a little-”

“Come off it, Pol.” Ben looked like something was hurting her. “Don’t say it like that. Whatever it is, it’s not nothing.” 

Polly met her eyes for a second, and felt so, so grateful just to be seeing her again, talking with her face to face. She sighed, and wondered how on Earth to sum up the dent that trying to keep living a normal life after July 12 had put in her mental health.

Ben gave her a little nod, like an encouragement.

“It’s just that the older I get, the more our travelling with the Doctor feels just like one of the crazy things you do when you’re younger, and then when you look back at it you can’t believe it was really you who did it. Like…” Polly was struggling to find the right words to explain it; she’d never talked about it out loud before. “Like it wasn’t something that happened to you, it happened to a friend and they just told you about it. It just feels unreal.” She looked down at her hands, folded on the table. 

She’d been thinking about this for years, not saying anything as the feeling grew, as she isolated herself from the whole July 12 thing. She’d kept quiet about it all through the marriage in her thirties - to a man her parents met before she did - and all through the subsequent divorce in her forties. It had just felt, during those years, like no one else in the world would understand it, let alone believe it, and like she was so alone that- “Sometimes I think I made it all up. July twelfth, all of it. I get really, really scared it’s just in my head.” 

She hadn’t meant to say that. She could hardly admit it to herself, and here she was, blurting it out within the first ten minutes of the conversation. Maybe she really was just a crazy old woman. 

Ben was staring at her over the table, and she just looked sad. “Why didn’t you call?” She scrubbed a hand through her hair. “You could’ve just called, Pol, and I would’ve- I dunno, helped? At least I could’ve confirmed it, couldn’t I? Made sure you and me both knew it was real, and it happened.” 

“I don’t know why I didn’t,” Polly lied. Then, after a breath, she amended, “No, I just couldn’t let myself think about you. Or about any of it, and you were part of it, so.” 

One thing she absolutely wouldn’t mention was how her parents had gotten so into her head once they found out about her and Ben, after the breakup, telling her it was just childish and a mistake and Ben had tricked her into it and she’d just been confused. She didn’t really like pointing blame, even at them, but she felt that if she’d just figured out they were wrong a little sooner, then- but she didn’t have the emotional energy to go there now. When she looked back up at Ben, she realized her eyes were heavy with tears, and she said, “I’m sorry, Ben.” 

“Hey, hey, hey-” Ben pulled a couple of napkins from the holder on the table and passed them to Polly quickly. “It’s alright, Pol, don’t- here, tell me what you want for tea and I’ll go and get it.” 

“Christ,” Polly whispered, pressing the napkins under her eyes. “Uhm, a cafe mocha. Thanks.” She watched for a moment as Ben got up and went to the counter, then just focused on getting a hold over herself again. It was bloody embarrassing - she felt like most people got better with emotions as they got older, but she’d just stagnated, gotten better at suppressing things. Not better enough, apparently. 

It was so sweet of Ben to give her a moment alone, probably remembering how proud she was, how much she hated crying in front of people, probably just being Ben and doing whatever it took to make her feel the best she could. And she literally knew this would happen, the moment she saw Ben again. She’d get all stupid about it and wish she could turn back time and do things over, differently, better. 

She wiped her face until she was sure she’d be alright, and watched as Ben figured out a way to hold cups and spoons and cream and everything securely enough to bring them back, and leaned her head on a hand, letting out a sigh. She hadn’t meant to start off like this, not at all, but she was feeling better and like she had more breathing room already, and wondered how long her body had been needing to cry. 

“Alright,” Ben said, setting a mug down in front of Polly. “There you go, doll. Here’s extra cream, if you need it.” 

That was a bit of a cherry on top, because she always added extra cream into her coffee, and somehow Ben kept that tiny piece of information in her mind for thirty entire years. Polly murmured, “Thanks,” again, and tipped a bit of the cream into her mug. 

Ben was blowing on her own mug, and she said, “Let’s just agree- the Doctor, the Cybermen, the Macra, Gatwick. That was all real.” 

Polly nodded, and it was such a common sense thing but it felt like a weight had just been pulled from her chest. “It was real,” she replied, and then, after a little beat, “What do you do to deal with it?”

Ben laughed. “Me dealing with it. Right, yeah.” She looked down, shaking her head. “No, I… yeah, I drank a lot. For a good bunch of years there, after we stopped seeing each other. But it’s not- it’s not your fault or anything, it was more trying to match my July twelfth life up to normal life, and how I couldn’t make it work. Nothing made sense, and… yeah, it was bad.” She sighed. “But I’m sober seven years this March, so that’s something. And I started doing this thing, just for- to settle me, really, for-”

“Closure,” Polly suggested, sensing that Ben needed that word. 

“Yeah, exactly. For closure.” Ben was looking into her coffee. “I know it’s a bit of a trip, but I go up to Inverness once a year. And I know it’s- it doesn’t do anything that matters, or- he won’t know I’m there, but I go out onto that field they’ve got there. That moor. And you walk along it, right, and they’ve got all these headstones. Not for each man, but for their clans, and I go out and I find him and… yeah.” She screwed a thumb into the corner of her eye. “That grounds it, for me. I know it’s real and I know he was real, and it’s… it helps a lot. Really, a lot.” 

Polly nodded, feeling the warmth from her cup drift up and curl against her face. She wasn’t sure if she could do that, not like Ben. Not on her own, certainly, and- the thought of going to see a memorial like that for Jamie made her throat close up. It did make it all seem real in a way that made her so, so relieved, but at the same time, Jamie’d been more a brother to her during that year than any of her biological brothers, and even thinking of him like that made her want to sob. 

She knew it was only realistic that Jamie would, eventually, make it back to his own time like she and Ben had, and would live out the rest of his life there, but the thought of him killed in some war, buried and then given a mass headstone… it was so much. She was overwhelmed with a need to be there despite knowing she couldn’t cope with it, just to talk to him even if, like Ben said, he wouldn’t know she was there. 

Ben reached across the little table, touching a few fingers to Polly’s knuckles in such a gentle way, like she was scared of something. Then she took her hand back, tucking it through the handle of her mug. “Sorry.” 

“No, no, don’t,” Polly said quickly, shaking her head. She took a sip of her drink, and poured a little more cream into it. “Thanks for telling me. Thanks for coming out to meet me in the first place, I don’t know- why are you even here?”

“Cause you needed to talk?” Ben offered. “I don’t know, Pol, cause I try to be a decent person sometimes?”

“You are a decent person,” Polly mumbled, smiling. 

“And I just wanted to see you,” admitted Ben. She looked off at the door. “Just- I worry about you. Kind of a lot of the time. And I know it’s been forever and I know I’m-” She shook her head. “Yeah, no, let’s not have this talk right now. We’re here to make sure you’re alright.” 

To be fair, dropping everything to check if someone was alright, even after thirty years, was a very Ben thing to do. Polly sighed, and held out a hand, laying it palm up on the table. “Thanks, Ben.” 

Ben looked down, and very tentatively took Polly’s hand. After a moment of just staring down in silence, she said, “Listen, Pol, next time I go up there to visit Jamie I want you to come with me. And tell me if I’m overstepping or any of that, but I just think it might be good. For you.” 

“I-” Polly rubbed the thumb of her free hand over an imperfection in the table’s wood. “I think it would be. If you don’t mind-”

“Course I don’t.” 

“I think I will come, then,” she agreed. She took a deep breath through her nose, let it out through her mouth, and, really, she was feeling so much better already. “You have my number, but I can give you my e-mail, or address, or- anything. So we can figure it out.” 

“Right.” Ben was just sort of looking at her. “I mean, I usually go up in the spring, so we’ve got a bit of time.” 

“Thank you,” Polly whispered. “Really, Ben, thank you so, so much.” 

“Don’t even mention it, Pol,” Ben said softly. 

And after a moment in which Polly was sure she’d say something stupid if she kept holding Ben’s hand, she let go and reached into her purse. “Let me pay you for my drink.”

“No.” Ben laughed. “No way, don’t even think about it.” 

“Ben,” Polly said firmly. 

Ben shook her head. “We’re not teenagers, we’re not gonna have this argument. I’ve got you, it’s fine.” 

Polly’s breath caught in her throat, and, gingerly, trying not to imply too much, she said, “As long as you let me cover next time.”

Ben’s smile faded slightly, and she was looking at Polly so gently. 

“Well, we’ve got to keep up with each other somehow between now and spring,” Polly explained, even though she could tell it was going to be alright, and that maybe, even after thirty years, she was getting another chance. 

“Right,” Ben said, after another moment. “Right, right, yeah, makes sense.” And then she was smiling her old smile, the one that made the corners of her eyes wrinkle up, and now considerably more so. “Will you be alright? If- I mean, just for tonight?”

“I won’t implode without you, Ben Jackson,” Polly said warmly. “I managed for a good thirty years, I think I can manage for another week or so.” 

“Course you can,” Ben agreed. “Yeah, course you can. But if anything comes up-”

“I’ll call,” Polly promised. She pulled her scarf off the back of the chair and tied it around her neck. Even though she’d be more than happy to sit there with Ben all day just making up for lost time, she got the sense that it might be better to take things slowly, and really do everything right. She grabbed her bag. 

“Alright,” Ben said, standing. “You have a safe trip home.”

“I’m a ten minute cab ride downtown, Ben,” Polly informed her, because it’d just occurred to her there was no way for Ben to know that. They really did have a lot of catching up to do, and she was looking forward to every second of it. 

“Sure,” Ben replied. “Still.” 

Polly smiled. “I’ll try my very best.” 

“Hey. Till next time?”

Polly could see in the way Ben looked up at her - and she knew Ben could see it in her eyes as well - all the ‘I missed you’s and the ‘it’s grand to see you’s and the ‘this really, really means something’s, and she could feel in her chest that this was going to go somewhere wonderful. She looped her bag over her shoulder. “Till next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @lesbiandonnanoble


End file.
